Trespasses
by B.A. Tyler
Summary: Set in 1969. When an unexpected visitor shows up on Hawkeye's doorstep with a request, he reluctantly looks back on the breakup of a friendship. Updated with Chapter 4. Now complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Trespasses**

 _September 13, 1969_

Hawkeye had just gotten settled on his couch to watch _The Sound of Music_ —again, for the umpteenth time—when the doorbell rang. With a sigh, he smacked his knees and stood right back up again. He went over to the television and, a bit reluctantly, turned it off. Julie Andrews had been in the middle of proclaiming that the hills were alive with the sound of music, and who was Hawkeye to doubt her? He smiled and silently promised Julie he'd get back to her as soon as he took care of the guest with the lousy sense of timing.

He opened his front door and blinked. The young woman standing on his porch was nobody he recognized, and his initial thought was that she'd gotten mixed up and actually wanted one of the neighbors. He put on a tolerant expression, all the while thinking that this would be a two-second conversation and he would get back to his movie before Julie even finished her opening number. "Can I help you?"

"Are you Hawkeye Pierce?"

He nodded, taking a closer look now that it was obvious she was at the right address. He guessed she was around 20 years old… slim, tall, blonde, cute. She was dressed in bell-bottom jeans and a powder-blue T-shirt. Her fine, flyaway hair fell to her shoulders. She definitely wasn't a patient of his, but he was starting to realize that there was _something_ familiar about her…

She held out her hand and he shook it, a little dumbfounded. But then she said the words that made everything fall into place: "Hi. I'm Erin Hunnicutt."

Hawkeye involuntarily took a step backward, his knees a little weak. It was absurd, but the first thing out of his mouth was, "How the hell old are you?"

She seemed to understand that she'd thrown him off-kilter. With a warm smile, she said, "I'm 18. Just started college. Harvard, actually… I'm pre-med."

He let out a low whistle. "Eighteen," he echoed. "Jesus, it seems like you were born just a few years ago. I mean, I wasn't there when you were born, of course. But I—when I met your dad, you were an infant, and he talked about you all the time, so it sort of seemed like I knew you then." He realized he was rambling and made himself stop. He got his bearings and finally did the hospitable thing: gestured for her to come into his house.

She stepped into his living room and looked around, seeming to take everything in, and he worried that she disapproved of his bachelor ways, the empty soda and beer bottles sitting on his coffee table, the days-old newspapers on one end of the couch still waiting to be read. He hurriedly picked up the empty bottles and took them into the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, "Please have a seat, Erin. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No thank you."

He needed a beer, though—desperately—and he got himself a bottle from the fridge, downing a gulp before he even left the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, he tried like hell to sound composed as he returned to the living room. "So Harvard, huh? Congratulations—that's quite an accomplishment."

Erin was sitting on the couch, so he settled into the armchair nearby. His leg bounced up and down a few times before he made the conscious effort to stop it.

She leaned back into the soft cushions, getting comfortable as she spoke. "My dad was so proud when I got the acceptance letter. Whenever Charles would visit us, he talked about Harvard all the time in such glowing terms—well, I don't have to tell you that, I'm sure. He probably did the same in Korea." She was referring to Charles Emerson Winchester III, Hawkeye was astonished to realize. That meant B.J. and Charles were still friendly enough that they visited one another. It was a little mind-boggling. Hawkeye tried to focus on her words even though his brain was racing wildly. "I only just started at the end of August and it's a little overwhelming, but I'm excited. It's an honor just to be there." There was a pause and Hawkeye was trying to figure out what to say next when she switched gears on him. "I'm sure you want to know why I've come to see you. It was a couple hours' drive up here from Cambridge and I wasn't even sure you still lived at this address—Radar thought it was current but he couldn't swear to it."

Radar… the company clerk who never really stopped clerking. He kept tabs on everyone from the 4077th, even the people who didn't necessarily want to be kept up with.

"So I was taking a real chance that I'd even find you. And then that you would talk to me. You're being polite, but you're also being very quiet, Hawkeye. I can tell I've thrown you for a loop."

"Well, yeah," he admitted. "But _of course_ I would talk to you, Erin. Why would you even wonder about that?"

She leaned forward, her eyes intent on his. "Because you and my dad haven't spoken in something like 15 years."

It felt a little like a punch to the gut. Had it really been 15 years? He calculated in his head as memories roared back. Yeah… the numbers did seem right; the last time he had seen Erin Hunnicutt, she'd been 3. He was still having a hard time getting used to the idea that this young woman before him—this college student—was B.J.'s little Erin. It made him feel old, to see such a clear example of the passage of time.

He snapped back to the present and Erin was still watching him closely, waiting. He wasn't sure what to say to her. OK, so it had apparently been 15 years since he and B.J. had last spoken. And so…? Did she have a point?

He took another swig of beer, then decided to be direct, otherwise they might be sitting here all day, staring at one another and beating around the bush. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yeah—at least I hope so. Would you tell me what happened between you two?"

"Happened?"

"Why you stopped being friends. My dad won't say. I must have asked him a hundred times—there are still pictures of you in his photo albums, and whenever we would look through them, I'd ask, 'Why doesn't Hawkeye ever visit anymore? Why doesn't he call?' And every time, Dad would only say that sometimes friendships don't last. That was his stock answer. No details, no explanation." She tilted her head to one side and in that instant, she looked so much like B.J. that Hawkeye felt like he was stumbling backward in time. "So I'm here for an explanation, I guess. Because I haven't gotten one from him. And I know how close you guys were, during the War. I know what you used to mean to each other. I have the letter, you know."

"The letter?"

"You don't remember giving it to me? I guess that must've been the last time you were out to visit us. I was really little. You gave me the letter you wrote while you were in Korea, when you were making out your will. Instead of leaving something frivolous to my dad, you wrote down the names of all the soldiers he had operated on."

Hawkeye jolted. He _did_ remember giving her that letter. Right before he left Mill Valley in heartache and shame, he had the presence of mind to hand it to little 3-year-old Erin. In fact, he actually snuck into her room and woke her up before he made his getaway, wanting to say goodbye to her for the last time. And to give her the letter that he always took with him on his Mill Valley trips, waiting for the right moment to hand it over. _Erin, I wrote this for you during the War. It was sort of meant for both you and your dad, but I want you to have it now. I may never see you again, honey, so take this and put it somewhere safe. You'll understand it when you get older._

"Yeah," she said now, reading his expression. "I still have that. It's important to me. And I know my dad was important to you. Will you tell me what happened between you? Please?"

Hawkeye took the last swallow of beer and then set the bottle down on the floor at his feet. So much for a Saturday afternoon of watching _The Sound of Music_ on TV. He stared at his hands, debating what to do. "It might be difficult for you to hear," he warned her.

"I don't care. I'm a big girl. Pre-med at Harvard, remember?"

"Do the details really matter that much?"

" _The details_ are the reason my dad lost his best friend 15 years ago. So yes."

In spite of his misgivings, Hawkeye had to smile at her tenacity. She reminded him of Margaret Houlihan in that way. The no-nonsense type.

The truth was that his falling out with B.J. had been entirely, 100% Hawkeye's fault. And if he explained that to Erin, she would at least know that her dad was blameless in the matter. It wasn't a pretty story, but the whole saga was in the distant past, and that somehow seemed to dilute it.

Besides, he most definitely wasn't going to tell her _everything_. No way was he going to make the same mistake twice.

"All right," he finally said with a nod. "If you really want to know, I'll tell you."


	2. Chapter 2

_December 26, 1954_

"Sorry, guys," B.J. said as he hung up the phone. "Duty calls—emergency at the hospital. Diverticulitis."

Hawkeye, helping himself to another beer out of the Hunnicutts' fridge, let out an exaggerated sigh. "Ahhh, the hectic life of the in-demand surgeon, called from the warmth of his family's bosom to administer aid to the sick and needy." He raised his bottle of beer in mock salute. "I don't envy you, Beej. Don't miss it at all."

B.J. pulled on his coat, raising his eyebrows. "You surprise me, Hawk. I really thought you'd be back at surgery by now. Although right now, on this particular occasion, I can definitely see the appeal of general practice. I was looking forward to our evening of board games, TV, and popcorn."

"Hey, don't worry about us, Beej," Hawkeye said, draping an arm around Peg's shoulders as the three of them stood there in the kitchen. Peg's eyes went back and forth between the two men as if she were watching a tennis match. "Me and the missus will be just fine. We'll carry on without you, just the two of us."

" _And_ Erin," Peg apparently felt compelled to add. She wasn't quite used to Hawkeye's frequently inappropriate sense of humor yet.

B.J., on the other hand, was never fazed by anything that passed from his friend's lips. He waved goodbye in their general direction and headed out the door, heeding the call of his Hippocratic oath.

Hawkeye wiggled his eyebrows at Peg with a smile, but the fact was, this was their first time alone together. Well, plus Erin, who was currently sitting on the living room floor playing with the new doll she'd gotten yesterday for Christmas. Hawkeye, who almost never felt ill at ease with anyone, felt just the tiniest bit anxious to be left alone with B.J.'s wife and daughter.

This wasn't his first visit to Mill Valley since the war ended, or even his second. It was actually his fourth. But when he did come out here, it was always the B.J. and Hawkeye Show, with Peg and Erin relegated into the background, dwarfed by the energy that the two men exuded when they were together. Hawkeye liked Peg well enough, but it seemed like he'd exchanged maybe a dozen words with her altogether, from their first meeting to now.

Well, perhaps this was a good opportunity, then, to get to know her better. He drank some more of his beer, sensing that she was unsure what to say or do. "We can still play Monopoly, Peg. Or we can just sit and watch the _Jack Benny Show_."

She nodded, "Television sounds like a good idea. Can I get you anything to eat?"

He put a hand to his stomach to indicate he was still stuffed from the large meal they'd had a couple of hours before. "The beer will do just fine, but thanks."

They moved into the living room and watched TV, sitting on opposite ends of the couch, while Erin kept busy with her doll. The evening passed pleasantly enough, but they weren't exactly setting the world on fire with their conversational skills. Erin seemed to have more to say than either of the adults. Nonplussed by the long stretches of silence, Hawkeye kept going back to the fridge for more beers. And by the time Peg marched Erin off to bed, Hawkeye was nicely buzzed.

Waiting for Peg to get back and resume their awkward evening, Hawkeye stared at the Christmas tree over in the corner of the room. Yesterday had been great fun, participating in the Hunnicutt family's Christmas celebration, watching Erin tearing open her gifts and B.J. laughing at the joy on her face. As much as Hawkeye missed spending the holiday with his dad, he'd had such a warm feeling being an honorary Hunnicutt for the occasion.

It only underscored how painful this evening was going, sans B.J. the buffer. Well hell, he thought suddenly, if Hawkeye Pierce couldn't make someone feel comfortable and relaxed, then nobody could.

When Peg returned, he patted the cushion next to him in invitation. Perhaps to prove that she wasn't afraid of him, she took him up on his offer. _Toast of the Town_ was on TV now… Ed Sullivan and his " _really big shew_." Unthinking, Hawkeye rested his arm above Peg's shoulders, as if they were teens on their first date. She shifted a little but didn't seem to object. He inhaled her perfume and it reminded him of one of the nurses back at the 4077th… maybe it was Baker who'd worn this scent. He wasn't sure. He leaned in to Peg to get a better whiff.

He would later wonder where the hell his brain went. Probably it was the beer, he reasoned. Maybe it was the very familiar perfume. Whatever the reason, whatever the impulse… he kept on leaning in to his best friend's wife until he was kissing her. On the mouth. Without restraint. With tongue.

Of course she immediately shoved him away. That was no surprise. The only surprise was that he'd done it to begin with.

Peg scrambled off the couch, putting distance between them. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded. "What are you—drunk?"

He began apologizing, over and over, as shame and remorse flooded his body. "That was so out of line, I can't even begin to defend myself. I'm sorry, Peg. So sorry." And on and on, contrition lacing every word.

Peg's expression transformed gradually, from shock and revulsion to pity. Yes, it was obvious she was pitying him, seeing him in a new light, labeling him in her mind as desperate and crass. In that instant, he had gone from being B.J.'s garrulous, fun-loving friend to lecherous loser.

He couldn't stand the look on her face, so he cast his gaze away, focusing again on the Christmas tree. The blinking lights shimmered because his eyes were filling with tears.

* * *

 _September 13, 1969_

Hawkeye paused and lifted his lashes to look at Erin. She hadn't said a word… he'd been talking for God-only-knew how long, getting the story out in a stream-of-consciousness monologue, thankful that she didn't interrupt. But here was the tricky part.

This is where he wanted to end the story for her, but it wasn't where the story actually ended.

So he said, simply, "When your dad got home, your mom told him what had happened, and he was furious. He kicked me out of his house, and who could blame him? I'd made a pass at his wife, for God's sake. It was unforgiveable."

He stopped there, but Erin said nothing. Hawkeye leaned back in his chair and waited, watching her. And he could see it on her face. She was convinced there was more to the story.

Which made perfect sense, because there was.


	3. Chapter 3

_December 26, 1954_

Hawkeye couldn't stand the look on Peg's face, so he cast his gaze away, focusing again on the Christmas tree. The blinking lights shimmered because his eyes were filling with tears.

And for some reason, something inside of him snapped. "Yeah, well," he said, bitterness rising up from out of nowhere, "no need to feel guilty, Peg. It was just a simple kiss. It's not like B.J. was a perfect little angel while he was in Korea, you know. Or _do_ you know? I kind of doubt he told you." The regret was gone now, replaced by a hostility he didn't understand. "I doubt he confessed his infidelities."

Peg was shocked into silence, her body rigid and her lips pursed. Clearly she was confused and hurt already, and any sane man would have the good sense to stop. But Hawkeye heard himself barreling on.

"First there was the nurse he slept with… Carrie. Oh, he didn't tell you about that, did he? He hadn't even been over there a year and already he was falling into bed with someone. But the second one—I think the second one should concern you even more. This woman journalist visited the camp… Aggie O'Shea. A real knockout. But it wasn't physical, or should I say it wasn't _just_ physical. She went after him like the letter U follows Q. And I gotta say, he got pretty obsessed with her in return… fell for her _hard_. So yeah, first there was the one he slept with and then there was the one he wanted to run off with, and you never knew about either one, did you?"

"That's enough," Peg said. Her voice was harsh, trying to project anger, but he could see her lips quivering. She was seconds away from sobbing. "I'm not listening to any more of this." She turned and bolted out of the room and up the stairs, presumably to her bedroom.

Hawkeye covered his face with his hands. What the hell had brought that on? He didn't recognize himself. He felt out of control of his own actions. He sat there on the couch, with Ed Sullivan yammering on in the background, and tried to figure out how he could possibly undo all the damage he'd just done.

Because that two-second kiss he'd planted on Peg? If he had stopped there, the mess would probably have been reversible. His bond with B.J. was strong enough to withstand a silly, drunken mistake like that. He was fairly certain B.J. would have been briefly angry, but later they both would've been able to laugh about it.

But telling B.J.'s secrets—that was the unforgiveable part. Those were not Hawkeye's sins to confess. What had come over him, for God's sake? Why dredge up the past like that?

He was still sitting there with his head in his hands when B.J. walked through the front door less than 10 minutes later. Hawkeye blinked at him, trying to get his mouth to work, but no sounds came out. He had no idea where to begin anyway.

"Hawk?" B.J. asked, his brow furrowed.

But before he could say anything else, Peg hollered from upstairs: "B.J., I need to see you right away!"

Things happened very fast after that. Hawkeye didn't even wait for their conversation to be over. He went to the guest room and started to pack his things. He was throwing clothes into his suitcase haphazardly, wondering how he was going to get to the airport because B.J. certainly wasn't going to drive him. His brain was spinning, trying to figure out logistics, how to get away from here and home and not get killed by his best friend.

But he didn't finish packing quickly enough, because then B.J. was bursting into the room, his hands clenched into fists. "Hawkeye, _what the hell?_ " His face was red, veins standing out on his neck. "Why would you…? My God, what did you do to my marriage?"

Hawkeye's mouth had gone dry… his heart pounded. He was in full panic mode, fully aware that he had lost his best friend in the entire universe… and he had no idea why it happened, what had possessed him. "I…," he started. He swallowed, and reached out a hand toward B.J., but B.J. backed away. "I…," Hawkeye tried again.

 _I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry… please forgive me. I don't know if I can live without you in my life. Please let's try to fix this. Don't hate me. I hate myself enough for the both of us._

None of that would come out. He felt like he was drowning and couldn't get any air.

B.J. took another step backward, appalled. "Yeah, it's always all about you, isn't it, Hawk? Listen to yourself. All you can say is 'I.' As if I'm supposed to be concerned about _you_ right now. I don't give a shit about you right now, and I'll never give a shit about you again!" Those fists kept clenching and unclenching at his sides. Hawkeye watched them, waiting for the blows to start. Instead, B.J. picked up a music box that was sitting on the dresser and threw it across the room, where it crashed into the wall and tore away a chunk of plaster. The box opened and Debussy's _Clair de Lune_ began to play, providing a surreal soundtrack to their fight. "You'd better leave, Hawkeye. Because throwing that just now… that felt good, but I have a lot more rage where that came from. And I can't swear that I'll stop with inanimate objects. You hear me?"

"Yes," Hawkeye managed to croak out. He tossed the rest of his clothing into his suitcase and rushed past B.J., out of the room, down the stairs. He had one hand on the front door when he remembered the letter. The one he wanted to give to little Erin.

He hesitated. He heard B.J. go back to his and Peg's bedroom… heard their door close. Hawkeye made himself wait a full minute, standing as still as a statue. Then he quietly tiptoed back up the stairs and stepped into Erin's room, waking her up with a gentle shoulder rub. He dug around in his suitcase until he found the letter hiding beneath his socks, and he pressed the envelope into her hands, trying to explain even though she was only marginally awake. And only 3 years old. Too young to understand the adult problems going on around her.

He kissed her forehead and left her room and the house. It was the last time he saw any of them.


	4. Chapter 4

_September 13, 1969_

The last time until now, that is… when Erin showed up at his house looking for answers. And to appease her, he gave her a partial answer, trying to disguise it as the whole truth and nothing but. To tell her about her dad's transgressions in Korea… that would be just as bad as telling Peg. Maybe worse. Erin probably idolized her father, and why not? He was a great man, one of the best Hawkeye had ever known. No need to take him down a few notches in her esteem.

Why had he even told Peg, for God's sake? He'd asked himself that question a thousand times in the weeks following the incident. At some point he got tired of asking himself and decided to ask someone else. He called Sidney Freedman and told him the whole sordid story, not leaving out a single detail, even though it cast him in the worst possible light.

And after Sidney's customary long pause to digest the information, the psychiatrist said, "It sounds to me like you were acting out of jealousy."

"Jealousy?"

"For everything that B.J. has. The loving family, the fairytale suburban home with the Christmas tree in the corner of the room and the gifts underneath. It showed you a reality that you're worried you'll never have for yourself. And so you wanted—subconsciously—to destroy what your friend has. You brought up old secrets that you knew would hurt his wife. It was an attempt to tear apart his perfect life."

Hawkeye thought that sounded pretty damn spot-on.

He also thought it was the most pathetic thing he'd ever heard.

He could have called B.J. after a decent amount of time had passed and offered an apology as well as Sidney's insightful explanation, but he could never bring himself to pick up the phone and dial the number. Months passed, then years.

The friendship was over.

And now B.J. Hunnicutt's little girl was all grown up and sitting in Hawkeye's living room, looking for all the world like she was going to call him on his bullshit. Well, on his lies by omission. Any second now, she was going to say, _You're not telling me everything, are you?_

But to his relief, she didn't. What she finally said was, "That must have been hard for you to tell me, Hawkeye. So thanks, I really appreciate it."

"You came all this way, how could I refuse?"

"It's a shame that such a close friendship ended over something so minor. I mean, it's not like there was any real threat there. Peg and B.J. Hunnicutt—strongest marriage in the world, trust me." When Hawkeye said nothing to that, she let her gaze wander around the room. "I guess you never got married?"

"Twice married, twice divorced." He winced. The first marriage had lasted nineteen months, the second one only nine. He didn't share those statistics with her.

"I think the breakup of a friendship—especially somebody you consider your _best_ friend—can be worse than a romantic breakup, don't you? A lot of the time, you kind of expect a romance to eventually fizzle out. But when you split with your closest friend, you lose your confidant, the person you always thought would be there." She smiled sadly. "Yeah, I've been down that road myself."

"The most important thing for you to understand, Erin, is that your dad did nothing wrong—or your mom, for that matter. I'm the one to blame, completely."

She shrugged. "It's all in the distant past."

"It _is_ in the distant past. Which makes me wonder why you've come here. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's fantastic seeing you. But why now?"

"I was hoping you'd consider calling my dad. Hoping that bygones would be bygones. I think he could use a friend right now." She looked down at her hands. "My mom died a couple months ago."

" _What_?" Hawkeye flinched, stunned. It was absolutely the last thing he'd expected her to say. "How?"

"Car accident. She was driving home after having lunch with some friends. A guy ran a red light and slammed into the driver's side of her car. She died at the scene. I hope to God it was instantaneous… that she didn't feel even one second of pain." She drew a shaky breath. "She was a really great mom."

"I'm so sorry, Erin." Hawkeye reached over and placed his hand on her forearm, stroked it.

She nodded her thanks, taking a moment. "That was in early July… July 7th, to be exact. My dad's still in shock, I think. He took a long leave of absence from work, but he's gone back to the hospital now. I didn't think I should move out East and start college—I felt like I was abandoning him. But he kept insisting that I go as planned. He kept saying, 'Go to school, it'll be exactly what you need.' I finally gave in, but I worry about him. A lot. I call him every night, and he always tries to sound so upbeat, but I think he's struggling. I don't think he has a best friend… it was always my mom, I guess… once he didn't have you anymore."

Hawkeye had no idea what to say. Peg's death was such shocking news—today was one surprise after another, and his thoughts were jumbled, his brain cells overloaded. He offered the only promise he could make right now. "I'll think about calling him, Erin. I don't know if he'd really want to hear from me. It might not be the best idea, considering what happened… but I _will_ think about it."

She nodded, seeming to understand that he needed time to process. "Thank you. You've been really sweet to talk to me, after I barged in on you like this, out of the blue. And now I'd better let you go—"

"No, no," he said, waving a hand. "You drove all the way up here from Cambridge, you might as well make yourself comfortable and stay a while longer. Would you like to watch _The Sound of Music_ with me? It's on TV right now." And then, as added incentive, "I'll make us some popcorn."

She gave a faint smile, and he could see a trace of B.J.'s in it. "Yeah, I'd love that. Thanks, Hawkeye. For everything."

"Of course. Anything for a Hunnicutt."

* * *

 _September 20, 1969_

Exactly one week later, Hawkeye was standing on B.J. Hunnicutt's front porch in sunny Mill Valley, California, trying to get up the nerve to knock on the door. He hadn't called in advance, nor had he called Erin to tell her he was doing this.

Actually, he could hardly believe that he _was_ doing this. His heart was racing, his legs unsteady. What if B.J. slammed the door in his face? It was entirely possible… in fact, it would probably be justified, even after all this time.

When Hawkeye Pierce screwed up, he screwed up in grand fashion.

But hell, he'd flown all the way across the country, so he had to see this through. Taking a deep breath and saying something close to a prayer, Hawkeye knocked.

One second, two seconds, three seconds, a few more…

And then the door opened, and B.J. Hunnicutt stood there, 15 years older but looking hale and wholesome as always. The boyishly handsome face, albeit featuring some telltale lines now… the fair hair, turning white… the striking blue eyes.

Those blue eyes widened as he gazed at the man at his door. Hawkeye figured B.J. was just as thunderstruck now as Hawkeye had been one week before, when Erin had announced who she was.

"Hawkeye?" B.J. asked, the disbelief evident in that one word.

At first Hawkeye thought he wasn't going to be able to say anything. He hadn't really given much thought to a speech of any kind, and maybe he should have, because now he was standing here at a rare loss for words.

"Hawk?"

He opened his mouth and what came out was: "I'm sorry."

He thought about saying, _I'm sorry for your loss._

He thought about saying, _I'm sorry for what I did 15 years ago._

He thought about saying, _I'm sorry we stopped being friends._

But in the end, he said nothing after _I'm sorry_ , because that's when he began to cry.

In the next instant, he was pulled into B.J. Hunnicutt's arms, and he understood he'd said the only words that mattered. Then B.J. was crying right along with him, and Hawkeye thought it was kind of ironic that in the midst of all these tears, he was the happiest he'd been in a long time.


End file.
